BLUE STEEL
by hellboundhellhound
Summary: Dean Winchester, serial chick flick denier, has his life turned into one when a case leads him to enter a modelling contest undercover. He was taught how to shoot since young. But this was definitely not the kinda shoot he was expecting. With bitchy contestants and a sick angel on hand, will Dean last the competition long enough to complete the case? Season 5.


**Summary:** Dean Winchester, serial denier of chick flick moments ends up having his life turned into one when a case leads to him having to enter a modelling contest " _SUPERMODEL ME_ " undercover in order to get close enough to gank that mother. He was taught how to shoot since young. But this was definitely not the kinda shoot he was expecting. With bitchy contestants and a sick angel on hand. Will Dean be able to last the competition long enough to complete the case? Set Season 5.

 **Disclaimer:** I unfortunately do not own _Supernatural_ or its characters (Or destiel will be friggin canon already) and any of the mentioned brands or services. Any infringement to copyrights is not intended.

Anyway, on with the story! I hope y'all enjoy. Any suggestion or constructive criticism is always appreciated.

* * *

 **BLUE STEEL**

Chapter 1

Dean Winchester knew he was a good-looking man. I mean, come on, look at him. But he preferred to think his good features came from things like say, how ruggedly handsome he looked in his leather jacket or how inherently hot the bad boy, classic rock and car combo was. But never in his ostensibly short lifespan was he ever expecting to have to hear his cheekbones being discussed at such length and detail. Or how his hair had to be lightened a tad to bring out the stunning quality of his green eyes. Or some crap like that. And yet, here he was standing, half naked on a raised stage, spotlights burning down on him and at least five camera's capturing his every reaction while a group of people dressed like Capitol rejects (don't tell Sammy he reads YA fiction) point and access his every feature on live television.

"Hmm… I like the bow-legs. Its kinda it makes him...unique." one of them with a heavy French accent mentioned, sparing him another once over. Dean suppressed a shudder. He didn't feel human. More like an object set up for an auction. Or a cow being picked for a culling.

How on earth did Dean land himself in these kinds of situations? Well, let him know if you ever find out because frankly he'd like to know too. Either way, here's a lowdown on exactly what happened leading up to this point. In other words, the tragic descent of Dean's dignity out of the window and straight back into hell. Just to get you up to speed on things.

It starts on a Thursday morning in a grimy diner just south of Providence, RI. And like every bad Winchester day, it starts out like any other. Because god forbid if the day gives a little warning before it decides to sideline them into the next tragedy that is seemingly part and parcel of their lives. Sam is staring at his computer, finger tapping incessantly at the keyboard. From the slight furrow in his brow, Dean can see that his little brother has already gotten his moose antlers stuck on yet another case. Good. A case should be a good distraction. He didn't exactly want to "talk" about what was happening between them just yet. He thought all this as he dug into his plate of sausage, bacon and eggs on toast, fork clinking lightly on the plate as he stabbed a sausage.

"Got a case?" he asked as he chowed down.

" Yeah, I think so." Sam mumbled distractedly before sighing and pushing the computer towards Dean. Haphazardly running a hand through his mop of hair as he lightly taps on one of the articles displayed the screen. "So get this. A model, Tina Burlensky, Age 23, found dead in hotel bathroom in NYC. Friends last saw her the night before: crying, screaming, you know, the works. That's before she locked herself in the bathroom and just…never came out. "

"Could just be a normal suicide case. I mean, its not exactly uncommon with these show ponies." Dean says, as he commenced the process of shoving the rest of the eggs into his mouth. He scans the article, eyes momentarily resting on Tina's picture. Damn, the girl was a hottie. Sam scrunches his nose at his eating habits in mild disgust before soldiering on.

"That's the thing Dean." He turns the computer back to himself for a moment, fingers deftly flying across the keyboard. "She was found shriveled up in the hotel hot tub with her eyes gouged out." He abruptly shifts the computer back to Dean. Dean contemplates murder, brother be damned, as he coughs up lung trying to get rid of the eggs he had just accidentally inhaled. Seriously though, no one needs to see shit like this on a Thursday morning at breakfast. Not even them.

Tina Burlensky lay in her pristine porcelain coffin, completely naked and as dry as a piece of bread. Dean absently pushes his plate of toast away from him. Her arms are arranged artistically around her face where platinum blond hair once encircled in shiny ringlets. Black holes where her eyes once were stare blankly up into the camera. Almost as if making one morbid final pose to the world she just left. Dean really hates his job sometimes.

" There's no way she could have reached that state of dehydration within one night Dean." Sam says this while taking a sip of water from his cup.

"Any reason she and her pals are in NYC?" Dean is already calculating the distance. About a three hour drive from where they are at.

"Yes actually. Says here they are there to sign up for a spot in a modeling competition reality show called Supermodel Me…or something."

Dean grimaces at the name.

"Yeah I know," Sam nods sympathetically as he starts packing his laptop back into his satchel. "But its pretty prestigious actually considering the winner gets a modeling contract with NEXT modeling agency, a campaign with GUESS and $100,000. Much better deal than what they got last season frankly in my opini-" Sam stops himself when he realizes Dean is staring at him, eyebrow raised. "What? I'm thorough." He snaps, averting his eyes from his brother as they stand to leave. Sam's breakfast is sits still mostly untouched on the table.

Without warning, Dean grabs a piece of toast from the plate and shoves it into his brother's mouth before walking off, mouth curling into a small smirk when he hears Sam spluttering and bitching after him.

They arrive in New York by about mid afternoon and check into the same hotel as their victim simply because there weren't many motels around that area and it was easier to investigate when they had a room in the place too. Especially since the press was all over this case and were thus banned from the building. Dean's wallet starts hurting again just thinking about it though. He grumbles under his breath about this as they shoulder their duffel bags through the fancy lobby and into the elevator. Generic elevator music plays as it makes the climb up to the 25th floor (Same as the victim). It stops at 13 however and a sharply dressed man in a pressed suit enters. He offers Sam a bland smile before his eyes zero in on Dean like a hawk. And it stays that way.

14, 15, 16

Dean glances at him from the corner of his eye. Dang, this guy might actually give Cas a run for his money. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, discomfort at the scrutiny rising with the red numbers on the elevator screen.

17, 18, 19

Sam coughs discreetly into his hand. The man glances up at him before offering Dean a smile. Dean bristles. Smiles are never good. Not to them anyway. They both tense up, ready to react to anything and everything at a moments notic-

" You ever thought of becoming a model?"

Dean just blinks. Okay maybe not everything. Because he certainly did not see this one coming. Ever.

Unfazed, the man continues. "I think you might actually have what it takes. How would you like to join our modeling competition? We appear to have a slot at the moment because of…you know." He trails off while gesturing around at the hotel.

Dean Winchester prides himself with the ability to bullshit at a moments notice. Its something that has gotten his ass out of more tight situations than he could count. And that is not because he cannot count very high. But that's not the point. The point is that he is human and thus, there are times in which Bullshiticus is not answering and he is reduced to become just like any other mortal around. And so just like any other mortal, when placed in such a bizarre situation, Dean just stands there gaping at the man like a fish out of water. Seriously, how the dude does not reconsider his offer is beyond him. Instead, the man in the suit just stands there, blue grey eyes twinkling in amusement. Sam isn't much help either.

"Wh…th…ca…" Yes, a very compelling argument indeed. It was nice to see that years of study in higher education for that prestigious law degree have finally paid off. Good job little brother.

The elevator stops on the 21st. And the mysterious man in the suit just shakes his head and grins.

"Well, this is me." He says as he slips a name card into Dean's hand. "In case you ever change your mind." With wink and a small wave, he strides out the lift, disappearing from sight as the steel doors close again and the elevator continues its smooth ascent upwards.

"Did I just-"

"Yeap."

"Did he-"

"I think so."

"Why would he even-"

"Well according to him, you have what it tak-"

" I know what he said Sammy."

"…"

"…"

"Erm…so are you gonna-"

"Wha-No!"

"…Okay…"

Ding. They arrive on the 25th. But he still feels like his insides were still stuck somewhere on the 18th.

Dean Winchester? A model? Yeah right.

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 **TBC**


End file.
